Diamond In The Garden
by seriousish
Summary: Emma Frost doesn’t believe in karma. If it were real, why would things like Poison Ivy kidnapping her only happen to her after she’d given up her wicked ways?


Emma Frost liked flowers – what girl didn't? – but she had just realized she liked them best trimmed, neatly arranged, or even pressed. If alive, she liked them in neat little flowerbeds or pots. Above all, she preferred diamonds, which never died, which needed no water, which were cold and had no thorns.

Roses were, truthfully, as much animal as any predator. They wanted to spread and push everything else out of the garden. Like LSD through a mind, they would overgrow the boundaries if left unattended, like synesthesia… turning touch into sound and sight into smell.

She'd defended herself from psychic attacks born out of creatures so alien that their thought processes were actually Lovecraftian. But the pollen attack was the most insidious she'd ever known. As subtle as a caress, it planted seeds which drew nutrients from her own thoughts. It made her relive, in myopic detail, the moments she'd been weakest. It made her tired with a weariness that went beyond her limber muscles and ready mind. It was uncomfortably spiritual. And it smelled of roses.

"Emma Frost, your conglomerate has cut down hundreds of acres of rain forest. Today, you pay for your crime."

Emma giggled. Funny, the things that jumped to the forefront of your mind when it was making you think a tiled floor was more comfortable than silk sheets. "Don't tell Scott."

* * *

Emma woke up to a painfully teasing, teasingly painful discomfort. At first she thought that it was her love, but no: dosing her and putting her in a compromising position wasn't Scott's style at all. Tearing the pollen's aftereffects away from her mind like cobwebs, Emma opened her eyes. She was in a muggy swamp, mist covering the gnarled trees like a boa around slender necks. Colorful flowers sprung straight out of the all-encompassing muck; the only solid ground was under the tree Emma was tied to. Vines circled her like she was an all-natural Bettie Page. Their thorns were prickling her and rending her already dirtied clothes. She wiggled a little and the vines tightened. "Oh, how bloody brilliant."

"Miss Frost, summer has come." The voice came from the trees, the flowers, even the lichen floating on the murky water. It was so deeply ingrained in the environment that it was almost psychic.

One of the swamp flowers bulged, grew, wrenching from side to side as it grew to the size of a wardrobe. Then it bloomed and from its core rose Poison Ivy, as if she were being born from the earth itself. She was dressed as skimpily as Emma usually was, minus the class.

Despite the vulgarity of it, she was beautiful. And powerful. There was a time in her life when Emma would've wanted her, for Black Queen. "This isn't my life," Emma said, turning to diamond and giving her bonds a contemptuous working. "I take beautiful women hostage, I'm not the one who's held prisoner. This is all wrong."

Ivy was less than dazzled. The vines held and Ivy's fingernails hissed over Emma's jeweled face. "A diamond. Is that your element? Cold and dead…"

"Perfect. Indomitable." Even in the brackish light, Emma knew she was beautiful. She let the light catch her face, shine its prismatic beam across Ivy's pale visage.

Ivy gestured and a frond eclipsed the light. "They tell me you're a hero now, with a heart of gold to match your diamond skin."

Emma let her hardness fall away. The wisest course now appeared to be telepathy. She listened to the song in Ivy's head, a pleasant harmony with jarring dischords when she looked at Emma. It made the headmistress feel weirdly ashamed.

"I've never had much use for heroes. It's just another word for misguided idiot. They protect the lowliest of animals, while that which birthed them is despoiled by their worshippers."

Emma held her head high. She'd been called a bitch, a whore, and she wore those words like precious jewels. She could do the same with bonds. "Your quarrel's with humans. I'm a mutant."

"Then you should know better, 'homo superior'." Ivy brushed a hand across Emma's jaw, as if testing whether the flesh was truly no longer diamond. She didn't stop at the chin, but continued down across the clavicle. Emma steeled herself to be groped, but Ivy's hand detoured down her arm and to her hand like a root seeking sustenance. She squeezed Emma's fingers and the vines squeezed with the same half-affectionate, half-sadistic fervor. "Look at you. I can forgive the plastic surgery – even the most delicate flower can need pruning – but those _cosmetics_… those disgusting clothes glistening with artificiality…"

"So you kidnapped me for a makeover. Novel, if unpardonably eclectic."

"No. There will be no reeducation. There will be justice, and a lesson taught, and it will grow from your ashes so that mutant and human alike will taste its fruit."

"Were those plant puns? Oh dear, you're one of those ghastly theme villains, aren't you? I may have been bad, but at least I had standards."

Ivy's voice rose with Medean wrath. "You _dare_ critique me?"

"Well, since you did ask, the costume could use some work. It's far too sexual, not enough threat. Not that I'm one to talk, clearly, but when I wear lingerie into battle, its point is to get away from the hard-nosed militaristic black leather everyone else is favoring. With you, I don't know whether to fear you or stick a twenty in your garter. If you're going to be an extremist, be an extremist. Don't apologize for it or try to soften the blow. Own your extremism!"

Emma felt a tingling sensation as one of the vines began to draw nourishment from her top, tightening as the natural fibers were absorbed. It didn't leave her naked, but it did leave her decidedly short of breath. Something about being this powerless appealed in Ivy's favor.

"I have far too much fun beguiling men with my sexuality to completely shed this mask of humanity."

"They _are_ fun to toy with," Emma agreed, smiling despite her mixed feelings about the roots caressing her skin and taking nutrients from her sweat. "But you need to back it up. This will come easier with practice, but sometimes you have to drop the sex appeal and raise the threat level. I find that actually makes men want you more. Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't urge you to give up your evil ways, join the side of good, give to the United Way… you've heard the speech, I take it?"

"It's served as many men's epitaphs."

"Outstanding!" Emma would've clapped if her hands weren't bound. "Very threatening! And if you don't mind my asking…" Emma's voice abruptly rose in pitch. "Red, why'd ya tie me up? Are we gonna do something fun?"

Ivy blinked and shook her head. Harley Quinn was suddenly tied up where Emma had been. It made no sense… except… it did…

"You spacing out on me, Red? I thought only I was allowed to do that!"

"Sorry, Harl." With a wave of her hand, Ivy freed her pal. "I was a million miles away… thinking of kidnapping Emma Frost?"

"Why headmistress Frost? She's so pretty and sophisticated. You should kidnap that nasty Katherine Pryde instead."

"Perhaps you're right," Ivy said, rubbing the side of her head. She felt like she'd forgotten something of vital importance.

Harley patted her on the back. "Hey, I'm a little soresville from those ropes. How 'bout a massage? You can do me and then," Harley smiled with a wickedness that was very unlike her. "I can do you."


End file.
